People always ask us 'what is the hardest part about living overseas?'. There are so many answers to this question. It really is not that hard (the living that is). But then it really is (the living away). Confused yet?
We knew what we were getting into with the missing of major milestones in our extended family's life back in the U.S., the daily grind and phone calls that helps you really know a person, the growing up of babies, the growing older of parents. Although almost all of our married life has been here, this is our home, and we have gotten used to the 'missing out' on stuff, events, and loved ones' lives, the 'getting used to' does not mean that it is easy, or even easy to process.
It doesn't seem very real to me that when we return to visit we will never go back to Jackson Way, where my Grandma Pinnie lives. As I write my dad and bro and sis are packing up my Grandma's house. She is in the hospital with pneumonia and is almost ninety years old. She is the one I spoke of in this post. And I wish I could be there as they say goodbye to this treasure of a house that was a real home for us every summer growing up and on holidays. In south Florida, where the bugs are always bad, and hurricanes loom, I still hold a nostalgic view of my Grandma's house. My sis has been posting about it and writing some memories, I will cut and paste her posts in full in order to capture them here also.
Goodbye Jackson Way.
